


Have You Seen the White City

by diffugerenives



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 14:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13706796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diffugerenives/pseuds/diffugerenives
Summary: "Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?""I have seen the White City, long ago.""One day, our paths will lead us there. And the tower guard shall take up the call: "The Lords of Gondor have returned.""Boromir Lives!





	Have You Seen the White City

…..A mile, maybe, from Parth Galen in a little glade not far from the lake he found Boromir. He was sitting with his back to a great tree, as if he was resting. But Aragorn saw that he was pierced with many black-feathered arrows; his sword was still in his hand, but it was broken near the hilt; his horn cloven in two was at his side. Many Orcs lay slain, piled all about him and at his feet.  
Aragorn knelt beside him. Boromir opened his eyes and strove to speak. At last slow words came. ‘I tried to take the Ring from Frodo,’ he said. ‘I am sorry. I have paid.’ His glance strayed to his fallen enemies; twenty at least lay there. ‘They have gone: the Halflings: the Orcs have taken them. I think they are not dead. Orcs bound them.’ He paused and his eyes closed wearily. 

It was deep sleep that took him then, and not death. 

"Ai," said Aragorn, "he is pierced deep, but not to the heart. It will take all my leechcraft to save him, and as I linger here, the orcs take Merry and Pippin farther from us. And I have chosen ill, having brought us to this place. I would not lose such a mighty warrior as Boromir, but neither would I leave the little folk in the hands of the orcs."

Then Gimli spoke: "We are hardy enough to face the orcs alone, Legolas and I," he said. "Tend to Boromir, and bring him, if you can, home to his city." Gimli turned to Legolas. "We have need of great haste," he said. "Let us go." 

Grimly Legolas nodded, having collected those of the Orc-arrows that would fit his bow. 

"They will be easy to track, at the least," he said. "I hear their noise even now." 

And running he departed, and Gimli followed apace. 

But Aragorn stayed by Boromir's side, his hands searching, guided by his healer's sense. A few arrows he pulled from the sleeping man's side, staunching the wounds with leaves and with spiders' webs. But he looked at the rest with great fear, for they had pierced him close to the heart. He closed his eyes. Five arrows remained, and Boromir's chest yet rose and fell, though it was shallowly. 

The first arrow he chose to pull was beneath Boromir's left arm: the shaft had penetrated deeply, and Aragorn feared to pull it out, lest the blood flow more strongly. But gently he pulled its shaft, and the arrow came slowly. Immediately he covered the would. Three more times, and only the arrow that had pierced directly into his left side remained. 

"Ai," said Aragorn, to the empty woods, "this is ill indeed. For it is too close to the heart, and I fear lest I should, in trying to save, slay." 

He drew his good dagger and cut into the flesh, around where the barbs of the arrowhead had lodged, and with great care removed the arrow. Then he took a string from the cloak that the Lady of Lórien had given him, and a needle that he had carried since Bree, and skillfully stitched the great wound. 

Boromir rested more easily now, though the danger was not past. For three days Aragorn tended him, feeding him slowly with a broth of venison from a deer he had chased down, and dripping water into his mouth. 

On the fourth day he woke. 

"I am not dead," he said, bitterly. "I thought I had made my payment for my error."

"No," said Aragorn. "It may be in time to come you are called upon to do some other deed. For your death would not wipe out your misdeed; but your valorous heart and your strong arm may." 

"My liege lord," said Boromir, and there was a new reverence in his tone, "have you forgiven me?" 

"I am not yet your lord," said Aragorn, "and I have forgiven you. For the power of the Enemy is great, and can overwhelm even the mighty of spirit." 

"What has become of Merry and Pippin?" asked Boromir. 

A cast came over Aragorn's face. "The orcs have them, indeed. But in their pursuit go Legolas and Gimli, and my heart is eased." 

Boromir rose up on one arm. "But we must go after them! two against such a horde -" 

Aragorn pushed him down. "You are weak yet. And besides, the Two Hunters have three days' head start. We cannot catch them. We will bide here until you can walk –" 

"I can walk," Boromir said. And gritting his teeth he stood, and took three painful steps. Aragorn watched him with hooded eyes. He sat on the stump of a tree. 

"We will bide here until you can walk," Aragorn continued, "and then we will go south to Minas Tirith. Your father and brother will be glad of your coming." 

Boromir's mouth twisted. "They will be glad indeed." 

It was a week before Boromir could walk without pain, and even then it was but slowly. But he demanded that they depart, and would not be dissuaded. 

"Though I go alone," he said, "I will go." 

Aragorn, with a shrug of his shoulders, took up both packs. "Very well," he said. "The boats have been destroyed, and in any case we could not have gotten them below Rauros-falls. We will follow the course of the Anduin to Minas Tirith." 

The first day they made three miles. Boromir was sorely wounded yet, and Aragorn made sure that he drank often, and took a crumb of lembas. 

"I am not a child," Boromir said, "that I should need a nursemaid!" 

"No," said Aragorn, "you are worse. You are a proud man, who a week ago was pierced by twenty arrows, and for three days lay on death's doorstep. You do not need a nursemaid; you need a healer's firm hand." 

"Bah," said Boromir. "Let me set the pace."

"I have been," said Aragorn mildly. 

"I am well," said Boromir. 

"You have seen enough wounded men, I think, o lord of Gondor, that you know that that is not true." 

Boromir stumbled and fell to his knees. 

"A root," he said. "Curse these trees." 

Aragorn nodded. "A root. Of course." 

They rested there for some hours. 

+

After a week of such travel, Boromir was growing stronger indeed. He insisted that he take the second pack, and his sword. Aragorn shrugged, glad indeed to be rid of the excess weight. 

"How far have we gone, Aragorn?" asked Boromir. 

Aragorn considered. "Fifteen miles." 

"And it is a hundred to Minas Tirith! By the time we get there, either the City will be in the hands of the Enemy, or they will have defeated him without us." 

"You forget," said Aragorn, "that you are well now, and that we can make better time." 

Boromir was silent. 

In truth, the slow progress was not his fault: there were no trails by the side of the Anduin, save that Orc-trail that Merry and Pippin's captors had made. They picked through dense vegetation, swung under great trees that the winds had blown down, and clambered over the smaller trees that had fallen closer to the ground. 

Besides, there were the mosquitos. 

"Have I not spilt enough blood by the banks of the Anduin?" grumbled Boromir. 

Aragorn slapped at a mosquito and said nothing. But the incessant whine of the insects was getting to him as well. 

"Better the mosquito that one hears –" 

"And feels!" broke in Boromir.

"– than the orc than can slay you indeed," said Aragorn. "It sounded better when Gandalf said it, or something like it." 

"I'd prefer the orcs," said Boromir. 

Aragorn looked back at him. One of the arrow wounds had opened slightly, and blood ran from it. 

"If you would. I would count myself fortunate if we met no one between here and Minas Tirith." 

"Why must you always be right," grumbled Boromir. 

+

They passed out of the wetlands and into the plains. The mosquitoes had gone, and so had the tree-cover; the only enemy now was distance. For by Aragorn's expert eye, Boromir had need of the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. There was much that those sages could do there that even the hands of a healer in the wilderness could not. 

"We will rest here for the night," Aragorn said, choosing a spot on a promontory above the river. 

"It is still daylight," Boromir protested. "We must reach Minas Tirith before my brother steals all my glory!" 

"Would you like to die at the gates of Minas Tirith?" Aragorn asked. "I am sure I could set such a pace." 

Boromir stomped off to gather wood for the night's fire – for having faced the worst, they feared no enemies but wolves and other animals that did not love fire. 

They dined on a brace of hares that Aragorn had trapped. 

"Mine should show pink at the center," said Boromir. 

"Perhaps your fine cooks in Minas Tirith can precisely time their broiling so that the temperature is cool enough for your palate and warm enough that it will not kill you, but I have neither the equipment nor the temperament." 

But when Boromir tore into the hare, he found it perfectly cooked. He looked over at Aragorn, who was contentedly breaking the bones for marrow, and said nothing. 

+

The next day brought new urgency to both their feet, for the mountains of Gondor grew nearer and closer on the horizon. 

"Home!" said Boromir. "I smell it in the air. We have almost made it!" 

But Aragorn looked past those mountains, to the East, and saw the black smoke rising from behind the mountains of Mordor. And he said nothing of it. 

When they could see the towers of Minas Tirith rising far before them, they heard the noise of hooves on the plain. It was too late to hide; and so they stood, steadfast, with Andúril free in Aragorn's hand, and Boromir's good sword drawn as well. 

But the first cry they heard was "Brother?"

Faramir raced his chestnut mare towards them, joy and incredulity on his face. "I had such ill dreams of you. But now you are here – though, I see, wounded. Minardil!" he called to one of his men. "Bring horses for my brother and his companion." 

"I am called Strider," said Aragorn. Faramir raised his eyebrows, but said nothing more. 

"And Ondoher, ride back to Minas Tirith, and let it be announced that the son of the Steward is come home again." 

Boromir and Aragorn mounted the horses, and they rode with Faramir's patrol home to Minas Tirith. 

As they rode, Faramir told his brother of the encroachment of the Enemy, and Boromir's brows drew closer together - but alongside anger, sorrow sat on his brow, sorrow that he would not speak of to Faramir. 

It took only a day to reach the city; and when they had come to the White City, standing tall and proud in her plain, the banners unfurled and the people sang; and over it all came the clear call of the trumpets, giving welcome to the returning son of Gondor. 

***


End file.
